Lazarus Rising
by Kenna Monster
Summary: Dean returns from hell and he and Bobby find Sam in a hospital in Iowa after almost dying during a solo hunt. Now they just have to convince a delirious Sam that Dean isn't a hallucination.
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N: This is my own version of 4x1 and how I wish the reunion between the brothers could've been. Enjoy!]**

"Sam's number isn't working," Dean said, closing his cell phone.

"He's alive, as far as I know," Bobby replied.

"What do you mean as far as you know?" Dean demanded. "I asked you to watch out for him, not let him go running off on his own!"

"Things were different after you were gone!" Bobby snapped. "Sam was different. He wouldn't return my phone calls, and after a while his number was disconnected. The kid doesn't want to be found."

"I'll find him," Dean said, grabbing Bobby's laptop and opening it. "Last time he went missing, I had a GPS tracker put on the car."

"You bugged your car?" Bobby asked, watching as Dean opened a website and typed in his password.

"I know Sammy. I know that when he's upset, he has to get as far away from the situation as possible. So yah, I bugged the car," Dean replied. "Got it! He's in Iowa."

"Alright, we'll take my car," Bobby said, grabbing his jacket and keys.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Bobby asked, looking around. They were parked outside the county police station, with a junkyard in the back.

"The car's here," Dean replied, climbing out. He walked over to the booth where an officer sat reading the paper.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a 67 Chevy Impala, my brother got a little drunk and took it out joyriding and then the stupid kid walked home. I figured you guys probably picked it up," Dean said.

"Yah, we have an Impala that got brought in two days ago from out in the woods. Was your brother alone?" the officer asked, checking his manifest.

"He doesn't remember," Dean replied, not liking where the conversation was going.

"Well, there was a young man that was found near the car badly injured, he was taken to the local hospital," the officer said.

"Which hospital?" Dean asked, forcing himself to remain calm.

"St. Augustine's, it's a few blocks that way," the officer replied. "Do you want to pick up your car now?"

"No, I'll come back for it later," Dean replied, turning and hurrying back to Bobby.

"We need to go to St. Augustine's, now," Dean said. Bobby quickly pulled back out onto the street and began following the signs for the hospital.

* * *

"Hi, I'm looking for my brother, he's really tall with long brown hair. I was told he was brought here a few days ago after an accident in the woods," Dean said to the nurse working at the front counter of the hospital.

"Yes, we have a Sam Montgomery who was brought in two days ago. I can page his doctor if you'd like," the nurse said.

"Okay, thanks," Dean replied, wishing that it wasn't Sam. But the odds were becoming slimmer and slimmer that his goofy giant of a brother hadn't gotten himself hurt. The Winchester family didn't have luck.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Wilson, I'm your brother's attending," a doctor said, shaking Dean's hand.

"Dean Montgomery," Dean replied. "How's Sam?"

"How about we go see him," Doctor Wilson suggested. Dean followed the doctor to the elevator, Bobby on his heels.

"When Sam was brought in he had a nasty concussion, fever, and a few broken ribs. We began treating the fever and wrapped his ribs, and the concussion was minor so he should be alright within a few days," Doctor Wilson explained as they stepped out onto the third floor and he led them to a private room. "But he's still pretty delirious and confused about what happened. I suggest you don't push him for answers and try to not over stimulate him."

The doctor held the door open, and Dean and Bobby walked inside. Sam was lying on the only bed in the small room, asleep. His chest was wrapped and a light sheen of sweat clung to his forehead.

"I'll leave you alone," Doctor Wilson said, closing the door behind him.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, pulling a chair up to Sam's side. "Open those eyes for me."

Sam stirred feebly, his eyebrows pulling together. He slowly blinked open his eyes, looking at Dean and Bobby. Dean could see the shock written on his face.

"Hey," Dean said, smiling.

"Dean?" Sam whispered. "You're dead."

"Not anymore Sammy," Dean said. "Not anymore."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam's body ached, a deep throb that reached into his muscles and clawed its way through his chest. He was exhausted, content to let himself drift between sleep and awareness, the faint sound of voices echoing around him.

Suddenly a cool rag was placed on his forehead, and oh it felt so good against his burning skin. Someone was there, trying to talk to him, but he was too tired to bother trying to push himself forward into wakefulness. The darkness pulled him back under.

"His fever's still pretty high," Dean said, watching Sam closely. Ever since they had taken him from the hospital and to Bobby's he'd been sleeping, his fever hovering around 103. Dean tried talking to him, tried waking him up, but nothing so far had worked. Bobby kept telling him Sam just needed his rest, but Dean couldn't relax till his saw Sam's eyes, till he knew his baby brother was okay.

"This isn't how I thought my return from hell would go," Dean said, standing up and stretching. Bobby was sitting behind his desk, sipping a beer.

"Just give it time, Sam'll come around when he's good and ready," Bobby replied.

Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. He reached down and straightened the blanket covering Sam, then sat down in the chair across from Bobby.

"I'm going on a hunt tomorrow, think you can handle staying here with him by yourself?" Bobby asked.

"Yah, we'll be fine," Dean replied. "What are you hunting?"

"Rugaru a couple towns over, should be back in a day or two," Bobby said. Dean looked over at Sam, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Stop worrying," Bobby said. Dean laughed.

"It's my job."

* * *

"Sam? Come on Sammy, open your eyes." The voice filtered through the cotton in Sam's head, bringing him out of his sleep. Slowly, he blinked open his eyes, looking up at Dean who was sitting next to him.

"Morning sleeping beauty," Dean said, smiling. "How do you feel?"

Sam stared at his brother, shocked. Dean couldn't be real. He was dead.

"Sammy? Say something dude, you're freaking me out," Dean said, watching his brother. Suddenly Sam's eyes filled with tears.

"You're not real," he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Dean panicked. Of all the reactions, this was the one he was least prepared for. He reached out, gently grabbing Sam's shoulder.

"It's okay Sammy, I'm back. I don't know how, but I'm back," Dean said, green eyes locked on Sam's hazel ones.

Sam slowly nodded, another tear tracking down his cheek.

"Think you could eat some soup?" Dean asked, starting to stand up. Sam's hand reached out, latching tightly onto Dean's arm.

"Don't leave me," he begged.

Dean quickly sat back down in his chair. "It's okay Sammy, I'm not going anywhere," he said. Sam relaxed his grip, though he never looked away from his brother.

Dean, knowing Sam hadn't eaten in a couple days, decided if they had to stay together, they both were going to the kitchen.

"Let's get you some food and meds," Dean said, helping Sam to his feet. Sam hissed in pain when the movement jostled his ribs.

"Easy, I got you," Dean said. Sam leaned heavily against him, and the trip to the kitchen which was only a few feet away took several minutes. Dean helped Sam sit down at the table, handing him two Tylenol and a glass of water for his fever before starting to work on some soup.

"So, what were you hunting?" Dean asked offhandedly.

"Werewolf," Sam replied, watching his every moment.

"By yourself?" Dean asked, surprised. A werewolf was a big hunt, even for two hunters, but to take one on by alone was either brave or stupid.

"Had no choice," Sam replied. "No one else was around."

Dean processed that revelation. He knew the year he spent in hell was a year Sam spent hunting, but somehow Dean always figured his brother would join up with someone else. Then again, as Bobby had pointed out, the kid had dropped off the map not soon after Dean headed downstairs.

"Well, not anymore, okay?" Dean said, placing a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the table in front of Sam before sitting across from him.

Sam didn't touch the soup, just stared at it. "The werewolf wasn't the first hunt that went badly," he admitted.

"What happened?" Dean asked, big brother mode kicking into overdrive.

Sam shrugged. "Poltergist cracked some ribs, twisted an ankle dealing with a demon, wendigo nearly clawed me to death."

Dean frowned, not liking the ease Sam talked about his numerous injuries. Just the fact that the kid had gone off on his own, hunting alone and refusing Bobby's help, worried Dean more than the many healed wounds.

Sam suddenly looked at him, eyes swimming with tears. "I'm so sorry I didn't save you."

Dean sighed. "Sam, it's not your fault." Now they were getting to the root of everything.

"I tried," Sam said as if he hadn't heard Dean. "But no one would deal. Every crossroads demon laughed in my face. Everyone said it was impossible, but I never stopped trying."

Dean didn't know what to say. He sat there looking at his little brother, his Sam, who was so obviously hurt both physically and emotionally. The kid had changed a lot in the past year, lost most of his innocence and faith in others. Dean just wanted to never let him out of his sight again.

"Sam, listen to me...there was nothing you could do. None of this is your fault, okay?" Dean said. He waited for Sam to reply, to argue even, but instead Sam just looked at him with overly bright eyes, face flushed.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed," Dean said, knowing Sam was too sick to be able to eat much at the moment. Sam nodded, and slowly they made their way back to the couch.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked as he helped Sam get settled, covering him with the blanket.

"Tired," Sam mumbled, fighting against his heavy eyelids.

Dean knew what he was doing, and pulled his chair back over, sitting down. "Sammy, I'm not going anywhere. I'm never leaving you again, I promise."

Sam looked up at him, eyes searching his face. Slowly he relaxed, allowing his exhaustion and the medicine to pull him under. Dean carded a hand through Sam's hair, brushing it back from his forehead.

No matter what Sam had gone through in the past year, Dean was there to pick up the pieces. He would always be there. Neither heaven or hell would seperate the Winchester brothers again.


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N: thanks so much for reading, this is the last chapter and I hope you enjoy!]**

Over the next few days Sam slowly regained his strength and his fever disappeared, leaving him antsy at being cooped up for so long. Dean would've laughed if he wasn't so shocked at the change in his little brother.

One such afternoon found them lounging at Bobby's while Sam continued to relentlessly search for a new hunt.

"Think I got something," he said. Dean turned to look at him. "Family was attacked by a wild animal in Colorado, police have no leads. It's the full moon in two nights."

"So a werewolf?" Dean asked, feeling slightly rusty.

"Yah I'd say so," Sam replied, closing his computer and standing up. He slipped the laptop into his duffel then began gathering up clothes that had managed to spread themselves on the floor around the couch.

"Sam, you sure you're ready for a hunt?" Dean asked. "You just got released from the hospital a week ago, and those ribs aren't healed yet."

Sam kept packing. "I feel fine," he replied, though he wrapped an arm around his side for support.

At that moment Bobby walked in, wiping grease off his hands. "You boys heading out?"

"Werewolf in Colorado," Sam replied, straightening up and tossing his duffel on the couch.

Bobby nodded. "Well, be careful and call if you need anything. I'm running phones for Rufus so I'll be around."

"Thanks Bobby," Sam said. Dean, seeing defeat, grabbed his duffel from the floor and followed Sam out to the Impala.

* * *

"Watch out!" Dean yelled as the werewolf turned to face off against Sam. Dean prepared to fire, trying to distract the beast from going after his brother, but Sam was quicker, pumping three bullets into the monster's chest. It fell over, rapidly shrinking back into a young man.

Sam staggered away from the body, holding his arm tightly around his side to help hold his aching ribs in place. The rifle had a nasty kick, and had jarred them.

"You okay?" Dean asked, materializing at his side. He grabbed his arm and started steering him toward the car.

"I can walk on my own," Sam said, though Dean didn't let go. He watched Sam fold in on himself once they were in the car, trying to keep his ribs as steady as possible as Dean began the drive back to their motel.

Sam was silent, and when Dean glanced over to check on him he was eased to see the kid was asleep, head leaning against the window. Dean knew he was being silly, that he should be grateful for how well Sam seemed to be doing, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Sam was hiding something. That his bravado and strong outward appearance was all just an act.

A few minutes later Dean pulled into the motel parking lot. "Sam, up and at 'em, we're at the motel," Dean said, gently shaking Sam's shoulder. Sam hissed, jerking away from him then cursed in a low voice as his ribs shifted.

"Come on Sammy," Dean said, climbing out and walking around to Sam's side, opening the door and helping his giant of a brother rise shakily to his feet.

"Feel like crap," Sam said, leaning heavily against Dean.

"I know kiddo, I got you," Dean said, unlocking the door with one hand and helping Sam to the second bed. Sam laid down, wincing at the movement.

"I'll be right back," Dean said, hurrying to the car. When he returned to the room he was shocked to see Sam sitting up, his shirt already off. He was inspecting his ribs, pressing lightly against them to see if they were out of place.

"Let me help," Dean said, tossing the duffels on his bed.

"I got it," Sam said.

"Dude, don't be stupid. You're hurt, let me help you," Dean argued. Sam looked up at him, surprised. Dean sat on the bed beside him, checking each and every rib until he was satisfied. Then he grabbed the first aid kit from inside his duffel, efficiently wrapping Sam's ribs before he could object, silently watching Dean.

"How's that feel?" Dean asked, stepping back to survey his work.

"Weird," Sam mumbled, staring down at his hands.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. Sam didn't say anything, looking anywhere but at Dean.

"Sammy, you gotta tell me what's going on," Dean said, sitting back down beside Sam.

"I'm super tired, I'm gonna get some sleep," Sam said, standing up and grabbing some clean clothes from his duffel before heading to the bathroom. Dean sighed, flopping on his own bed. Typical Sam, not wanting to worry Dean. But there was something obviously bothering the kid, and if he refused to talk about it then Dean would endure a chick flick moment just to find out what was going on.

When Sam returned, Dean waited till he was in bed before saying, "I know this past year has been rough on you, but Sam you gotta stop thinking it was your fault. I made that deal, and I dealt with the consequences."

"So did I," Sam said softly.

Dean sat up, looking over at Sam. "What do you mean?"

"I hunted alone, had to learn how to watch my own back, how to stitch up my own wounds. So yah, you went to hell, but it was hell here for me too," Sam replied, staring hard at the ceiling.

Dean was silent. Sam was used to being alone, doing everything by himself with no help from anyone else. It would take him a while to relax, to let Dean back in, to learn how to work on a team again.

"Sam, listen...I'm here to stay. So get used to not being alone anymore alright?" Dean asked, looking over at his brother. Sam nodded, and Dean saw a tear slide down his cheek and into his hair.

"Night Sammy."


End file.
